


I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas

by lucid_dreamer_247



Category: White Christmas (1954), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Christmas Party, Getting Together, Inspired by White Christmas, Kim Seokjin | Jin & Park Jimin are Siblings, Kim Seokjin | Jin is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Romantic Tension, Seductive Park Jimin (BTS), fake engagement, holiday fluff, mishaps under the mistletoe, side vmin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28274421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucid_dreamer_247/pseuds/lucid_dreamer_247
Summary: Dragged to a lodge in the mountains for Christmas, Yoongi expected to have a relaxing holiday in the snow.He hadn't expected to fall in love.A spin on a classic Christmas rom-com, featuring jazz duo JinMin, fools-in-love NamHopeKook, very on-brand Vmin, and YoonJin being whipped under the mistletoe (emotionally, not literally).
Relationships: Kim Seokjin | Jin/Min Yoongi | Suga
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: BTS Holiday Fest





	1. Under the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [BTSHolidayFest2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/BTSHolidayFest2020) collection. 



> This story is based on the 1954 movie “White Christmas,” but you don’t need any prior knowledge of the movie to enjoy this fic! I’ve quoted some things directly but also changed stuff around; after reading this fic I highly recommend going and watching the movie to get the full effect! (It’s on Netflix hehe and it’s a wonderful Christmas classic full of singing and dance numbers. But fair warning, some aspects are a bit antiquated). Let me know if you think I got the characters right! 😉 
> 
> **CAST:**  
>  Betty = Seokjin  
> Judy = Jimin  
> Bob Wallace = Yoongi  
> Phil Davis = Taehyung  
> Emma = Hoseok  
> Captain = Namjoon  
> Susan = Jungkook 
> 
> **Prompt:**  
>  _"You're going to catch a cold in this snow," Seokjin says as he removes the scarf from his neck to hand it to Yoongi.  
>  Yoongi looks at the scarf in confusion, so Seokjin takes the liberty to wrap the scarf around Yoongi's neck.  
> At first, Seokjin is concentrated on making sure Yoongi is warm, but his attention slowly drifts to Yoongi's expression, lips slightly parted as soft eyes gaze up at Seokjin.  
> Seokjin nearly gulps.  
> Oh, how Seokjin wishes that a mistletoe hung above them, so he can have an excuse to kiss Yoongi.  
> DNW: Smut, Heavy Angst_

“We made it!”

Taehyung emphatically flings himself from the taxi. Yoongi follows with significantly more restraint and decorum. He scowls at the sky, hunching his shoulders against the cold as Taehyung fumbles with their bags in the trunk, hoisting them out and unceremoniously plopping the heaviest one into Yoongi’s arms.

Taehyung inhales dramatically. “Ah, such wonderful fresh air! Smells like nature.”

“Smells like torture,” Yoongi amends with a mutter, narrowing his eyes at the thick expanse of pine trees stretching out from the road. Taehyung gives him an unamused glare.

“Only _you_ would think a vacation is torture.”

He brushes past Yoongi with a sniff, heading up the packed gravel pathway from the main road, and after a moment, Yoongi follows, grumbling to himself as he lugs the travel bag along. The path is surrounded by lush forest, the scent of pine cloying, the gravel crunching uncomfortably beneath Yoongi’s boots as they head towards the vacation lodge.

As they approach, Yoongi grudgingly concedes that the building has charm; it’s a quaint yet sturdy little hotel with dark wood and Bavarian-style embellishments, tucked between the trees atop an imposing hill. Yoongi longingly glances back at the road, where the taxi is disappearing around the bend. The lodge is just a couple hours from the city, but it feels an ocean away.

The air is so… clear, crisp and earthy. The forest blankets him in heavy silence. He sees snow-capped mountains in the distance, the lodge a perfect vantage point over the valley.

Yoongi’s chest feels increasingly light with each step towards the lodge, a tension unravelling from his shoulders that he hadn’t realized was coiled so tight.

His breath clouds the cold air as he stomps up the lodge steps, dragging his bag. Taehyung is waiting for him on the porch, eyes bright and excited, and as Yoongi takes a long, slow inhale of the frigid mountain air, he reminds himself that this vacation is for Taehyung’s sake. Yoongi may prefer the sound of traffic and hectic crowds of pedestrians to the trilling of birdsong and stifling quietude of nature, but if it makes Taehyung happy, Yoongi shall endure. And at least the view is decent.

Taehyung is bouncing on his feet as Yoongi finally drags himself onto the porch with a huff.

“Tae, this is _your_ bag, isn’t it?” he accuses flatly, dropping the duffel with a thud, eyeing the significantly-smaller bag – _his_ bag – in Taehyung’s arms. “No wonder it’s so heavy.”

Taehyung shrugs, unapologetic. “Even on vacation, it’s important to get exercise!”

“Your understanding of the word ‘vacation’ is seriously messed up,” Yoongi grumbles as Taehyung swings open the front door and rushes inside. Yoongi follows with a poorly-contained sigh.

“Oh, Namjoonie! Hobi!” Taehyung calls. They’re standing in a cozy reception room, a warm space with tall windows and a large fireplace crackling before an arrangement of plush couches artfully situated over unimposing chateau rugs. The maroon loveseat looks particularly inviting; Yoongi could imagine himself settling in with a good book, perhaps writing some lyrics…

There’s a clatter of rushed footsteps, and then Hoseok emerges from a room behind the front desk, running towards them with a whoop of excitement and immediately scooping Taehyung into a hug. He twirls him in a circle, both laughing loud enough to echo in the spacious lounge.

Hoseok sets Hoseok down and turns to Yoongi, who allows himself to be swept into an identically enthusiastic hug. He hides his smile in Hoseok’s shoulder and clings back just as tightly, holding on for dear life as Hoseok turns him into a helicopter blade.

Hoseok is still laughing when he finally sets him down, smile lighting his entire face. “Joonie!” he calls over his shoulder. “They’re here!” He cups Yoongi’s face between his hands, beaming at Taehyung. “I’ve missed you both so much; it’s lonely up here in the mountains with just my hot himbo husband.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not,” a voice says. Namjoon appears at the top of the grand staircase, grinning down up them. Yoongi’s heart aches; he’s missed seeing those familiar dimples in person.

Namjoon quickly jogs down the stairs and joins their group hug, clapping Taehyung on the back. “It’s been awhile, huh?”

“Blame Yoongi,” Taehyung says with a grimace. “You know how he is: a determined recluse, devoted to overworking himself and everyone around him. Namely me.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “Some things never change.”

Yoongi grimaces at them both. Hoseok pouts, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“I figured after college you would learn to loosen up a bit, Yoongs.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here!” Taehyung says with gusto. “If the snow and trees and chestnuts roasting on an open fire can’t get him to relax, I don’t know what will.”

“I’m standing right here, you know,” Yoongi says dryly. Hoseok smirks and pinches his cheek, something he used to do in college after one too many beers, and like old times, Yoongi fakes a grimace but doesn’t pull away.

“Well, mother nature has been stingy with the snow this year, but we’ve definitely got trees!” Namjoon says. “And chestnuts!”

Namjoon and Hoseok continue listing the lodge’s amenities in an oddly enthusiastic match of verbal ping-pong as they escort their guests upstairs, and Yoongi is struck by just how much he’s missed them. They were his closest friends in college, but after they ran off to start their own business in the mountains and Yoongi stayed in the city to pursue music with Taehyung, he’s barely seen them in the following years.

“Alright, Tae, your room is on the left, Yoongi’s is on the right,” Namjoon directs when they reach the landing. “We’ll leave you two to get settled in, but meet us down at the bar tonight, say 8 o’clock? Drinks are on the house.”

Yoongi grins. “Can’t say no to an offer like that.”

Hoseok waggles his eyebrows. “You sure we can’t convince you guys to do a little performance while you’re up here?”

“Nope, nope, we are here to _relax_ ,” Taehyung says firmly. “The Cypher Duo is hanging up its hats until the new year.”

Namjoon ushers them to their rooms, and Yoongi immediately tosses his bag on the bed, flopping down beside it. There’s a wide window overlooking the valley, lacy curtains pulled aside to reveal a stunning view of distant mountains. The bed is enormous, the fluffy comforter nearly swallowing Yoongi whole, and the room is filled with homey touches that Yoongi suspects Hoseok crocheted himself.

Yoongi is emptying his bag into the closet when Taehyung invites himself in, immediately launching himself onto Yoongi’s bed with a contented sigh.

“Isn’t this place incredible?” he gushes. “Hobi and Joon really outdid themselves.”

“It was always their dream to build a place like this,” Yoongi says, shoving his socks into a drawer.

Taehyung hums. “Well, right now, _I’m_ dreaming of snow. A white Christmas. And of a whirlwind holiday romance!” He hides a smile into Yoongi’s pillow. “Maybe I’ll meet the man of my dreams down at the bar tonight. You never know; with all of this holiday magic in the air, miracles are bound to happen!”

Yoongi shakes his head; between the two of them, Taehyung has always been the romantic one, his head getting stuck in the clouds until Yoongi brings him back down to earth.

“If you couldn’t find a whirlwind romance in the city, I doubt you’ll find one here.”

Taehyung rolls onto his side, propping a cheek on his hand. “It’s not that I couldn’t find one. I’ve never had _time_ for one.”

Yoongi’s gut clenches guiltily. “You could have found time if you really wanted to.”

Taehyung frowns. “Not really, Yoongs. We’re a team, a duo of dynamite performers. I can’t just waltz off into the sunset any time I feel like it.” He picks at a thread on his sweater. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes, your pace is too much for me. I need this vacation as much as you do, if not more.”

“I already told you,” Yoongi sighs, hanging up a suit that Taehyung had insisted he bring, “I don’t need a break.”

Taehyung stares at him with narrowed eyes, then flops back onto the pillow with a huff.

“Nice try. Let’s face it: you’re a lonely, miserable, unhappy man. And when you’re unhappy, I’m unhappy.”

“Geez, way to sugarcoat it.”

“As your singing partner and best friend, it’s my solemn duty to tell you the truth,” Taehyung says, picking up a colorfully-crocheted throw pillow and hugging it to his chest. “I’m just looking out for you, Yoongs.”

“Ah, yes, because this vacation is you looking out for me.”

Taehyung shrugs, eyes big and innocent. “I’m always looking out for you.”

Yoongi closes his eyes. He remembers a time when he was lost, consumed by a darkness he never expected to escape. He remembers a boxy smile, a laugh like buttery sunshine, a warm hand refusing to let go.

He blows out a breath, softening his tone. “And I’m thankful for you, Tae, from the bottom of my heart. You know that. I agreed to this silly vacation; will you leave things alone, now?”

Taehyung blinks at him. “No, I will not.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re a miserable, lonely, unhappy man.”

Yoongi groans, throwing a t-shirt at Taehyung. “You don’t know anything. I’m a very happy man.”

“Well, then, you’re happy for the wrong reasons,” Taehyung says, throwing the shirt back, aiming for Yoongi’s face, “and that’s the same as being lonely and miserable, except it’s worse.”

Yoongi fists the shirt in his hands. “You know something? You’re off your nut. I’ve got everything in life I want—"

“Oh, sure.” Taehyung’s voice is sarcastic, expression unamused. “You’ve got everything you want except the most important thing.”

“And what’s that?” Yoongi challenges.

“Someone to love.”

Yoongi opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks down at the crumpled shirt in his hands, heart clenching. “Yeah, well… I’ll get around to it one of these days.”

Taehyung sits up, his glare losing its edge and his voice softening like butter. “Oh, my dear partner. When what’s left of you gets around to what’s left to be gotten, what’s left to be gotten won’t be worth getting, whatever it is you’ve got left.”

Yoongi stares at him. “When I figure out what that means, I’ll come up with a crushing reply,” he says dryly. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Taehyung holds out a hand. Yoongi pauses, but steps forward to take it, Taehyung’s long fingers warm and gentle and familiar between his own, his eyes glittering with infallible fondness that Yoongi has never felt he deserves.

“Ever since we started Cypher, you’ve changed. College was one thing, but lately you’ve gone absolutely berserk with work. And the strange thing is, you _like_ it.”

“So I like what I do, sue me,” Yoongi mumbles. “Cypher was your idea in the first place.”

Taehyung clucks his tongue. “Sure, it was my idea, but I didn’t think it would create a Frankenstein.”

“I think you mean Frankenstein’s monster.”

“No, I mean Frankenstein, the insane scientist who hyper-fixates on his work to the detriment of his own health and happiness.” Taehyung boops Yoongi’s nose to soften the blow, but the words still sting.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Yoongi sighs, ruffling Taehyung’s hair affectionately. Taehyung pouts up at him with his big brown eyes.

“I just want you to loosen up a bit, take a break, have _fun_ for once in your life.” His eyes sparkle. “And maybe even find someone to share your heart with.”

“Isn’t that why I have you?”

Taehyung whines, rolling his eyes and dramatically flopping back onto the pillow. “C’mon, I’m basically your _brother_ , you know it’s not the same! You need a good old-fashioned romance to soften that icy heart of yours.”

Taehyung yelps as Yoongi shoves him out of bed.

“Time for you to leave. This room is for passionate, whirlwind romance only, no brothers allowed.”

Taehyung grins, pout melting away as he skips to the door. “This vacation will be good for us, you’ll see! And the first step on our To-Do List of Fun: spend a night drinking, relaxing, and _watching_ a performance, for once.” He shoots Yoongi a wink. “Wear something nice tonight!” he sings before closing the door behind him.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Yoongi adjusts the sleeves of his silk dress shirt and descends the steps to the lowest level of the lodge, below ground. Sultry jazz drifts down the hallway, growing louder as Yoongi approaches a heavy door at the end of the corridor. Pushing it open, his brow raises, impressed.

He steps into a tasteful speakeasy-type establishment, the door swinging shut behind him. There’s a bar along the far wall, bottles of booze backlit with hazy light that lingers on the mirrors behind the counter. There’s a scattering of round tables half-full with patrons, a space cleared in the middle for dancing, a band playing quiet jazz in the corner of a slightly-raised stage. The space is warmly lit, yet dim and mysterious in just the right places, enough shadows clinging in the corners to give an aura of intrigue.

“Yoongi!” he hears. Taehyung is waving to him from a table near the stage, sitting beside Hoseok, Namjoon, and a handsome young man with a strong jaw and lean figure.

“Yoongi, this is Jungkook,” Hoseok introduces as Yoongi takes a seat. “He’s our resident handyman and close friend.”

“Without him, this place would have crumbled to pieces a long time ago,” Namjoon chuckles. Yoongi notices the way Jungkook hangs on Namjoon’s every word, the way his ears turn pink when Hoseok drapes an arm over the back of his chair, the way Hoseok and Namjoon’s bodies seem to subconsciously orient themselves around the boy with the dark hair and bright eyes.

Yoongi raises a brow but doesn’t comment, nodding politely to Jungkook. “Nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Jungkook breathes, gaze flitting from Yoongi to Taehyung with thinly concealed awe. “It’s an honor to meet the geniuses of the Cypher Duo in person.”

“Now, now, I told you Jungkook, none of that here,” Taehyung scolds with a grin, taking a sip of his Shirley temple. “Yoongi and I have left the grandeur of fame behind for this restful excursion in the mountains. We’re just two average guys.”

Hoseok giggles, twirling a lock of Jungkook’s hair between his fingers, the younger man’s ears darkening in the dim club lights. “Our Jungkookie is a big fan of you guys.”

“Well, that’s very flattering,” Yoongi says, offering Jungkook a smile and taking a sip of the drink Taehyung pushes towards him. “Any friend of Hobi’s is a friend of ours.”

“He’s my friend, too,” Namjoon mutters into his drink. Taehyung snorts, Jungkook ducking his head but failing to conceal his pleased smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice interrupts them. A man in an elegant suit has taken the stage, the jazz band quiet. “It is our pleasure to introduce tonight’s featured performers, the most talented duo to ever grace our humble stage. Please welcome: the Bangtan Brothers!”

The crowd erupts with applause and Namjoon leans over the table. “I think you’ll really like these guys,” he whisper-shouts over the small crowd. Yoongi leans back in his seat, taking a long sip of his drink as he watches the stage lights dim, curiosity peaked.

There’s a beat of silence, the crowd shifting in anticipation, and then the lights flare up, illuminating two figures center stage as the band strikes up a tune. And then, the figures begin to sing.

Yoongi’s mouth drops, his drink forgotten, everything fading away as their elegant harmonies envelop him, floating over his skin like a caress. His eyes rake over the duo; two men, one small and blonde, the other tall and brunette, both dressed in sinfully-tailored sky blue suits with lace detailing and jewelry sparkling under the stage lights. They’re bathed in gold, and Yoongi is riveted by their commanding auras and exceptional stage presence, the duo working the audience like pros. Yoongi can sense everyone in the small venue hanging on their every word, every note, every coy smile and flutter of eyelashes and touch of fingers to collarbone.

The smaller man is doll-like and graceful, his voice sweet and persona sultry. But Yoongi barely spares him a glance. He’s unable to look away from the taller brother, whose wide shoulders taper into a slim waist, legs stretching for miles beneath his blue suit, features strikingly handsome with the most luscious cherry lips. While the smaller man is fiery and bright, seducing the audience with his gently rasping voice and hooded eyes, the brunette burns like a steady flame, alluring without trying, his voice crisp and clear like fine wine.

Halfway through the number, Yoongi swears the brunette catches his gaze, staring back for a long moment, those enticing lips twitching in amusement as his hips sway and voice croons, and Yoongi feels charmed, powerless. For the first time in months, Yoongi’s mind is blessedly empty. He can focus on nothing but this beautiful man and his equally beautiful voice.

Enthusiastic applause jolts Yoongi from his trance. He belatedly realizes the duo has finished their song, taking their bows with matching smiles and disappearing offstage to prepare for their second number. There are some whistles and shouts from the audience, raucous approval, and Yoongi would join in if he wasn’t so thoroughly melted into his chair, visions of an angel in blue seared into his mind.

“Incredible, aren’t they?” Namjoon grins. A waiter arrives with a new round of drinks, and Yoongi grabs one hastily, needing something solid to cling to.

“Yes,” he says, clearing his throat, attempting to sound casual, “I can see why they’re so popular.”

When he turns to his partner, he finds Taehyung staring into space, pupils dilated, cheeks suspiciously rosy.

“Tae…? You feeling okay?”

“Huh?” Taehyung blinks, eyes still far away. “Oh, yes, just dandy.” He steals Yoongi’s drink, downing it in one long gulp as his cheeks slowly fade to their usual color.

Jungkook watches them, confused. “Are you guys always this… eloquent?”

Hoseok is grinning, and he leans in to whisper something into Jungkook’s ear, Jungkook giggling into his sleeve. Namjoon’s head whips towards the sound, watching the boy with a blatant fondness Yoongi has only ever seen directed at Hoseok.

Yoongi sighs, signaling to the waiter for another cocktail. His vision is still clouded with sky blue.

He’s startled to attention by another burst of applause; the brothers are back onstage, this time in ensembles of white satin, diamonds glittering in their ears and at their throats. The stage lights catch in the taller brother’s hair, lingering on his cheekbones like the touch of god. Yoongi sighs, ignoring Namjoon’s curious gaze as he rests his head on his hand and lets his vision swim with satin.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

As the Bangtan Brothers take their final bow, Taehyung feels restless, almost feverish.

The smaller brother was utterly captivating, with his cherubic face yet dark eyes, sweet lips but Cheshire smile, his lithe body graceful yet teeming with restrained power. Taehyung’s collar feels tight, his sleeves too scratchy on his overheated skin. Maybe his drink was too strong. Yeah, that would explain it.

“So, what did you think?” Hoseok asks excitedly. Next to him, Yoongi clears his throat.

“Beautiful voices,” he says slowly. “And great eyes.”

Jungkook cocks his head. “Eyes?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Eyes are the windows to the soul, and all that jazz.”

“Touché,” Hoseok says with a salute of his glass. “Oh, look, Namjoonie is back!”

Taehyung follows his gaze, and his heart lurches when he sees the two Bangtan Brothers following Namjoon to their table. The taller brother is impeccable in a tailored suit of midnight blue, but the blonde brother is a vision, dainty and delicate in a baby pink blouse tucked into black pants. Taehyung sees a peek of glittery cream-colored heels from beneath the flared pant legs. He can feel sweat beading on his temple.

“Taehyung, Yoongi, I’d like you to meet our star performers: Seokjin,” he says, gesturing to the imposing brunette, “and Jimin.”

“It’s an honor to meet you both,” Seokjin says with a small bow, his musical voice polite. “Your reputation precedes you.”

Taehyung’s skin prickles, and he finds Jimin eyes on him. His gaze slowly flits down Taehyung’s body, sliding back up as his lips quirk in a tiny smirk, so quick Taehyung thinks he’s imagined it. But the flush he feels creeping over his skin says otherwise.

Before he knows it, the two brothers are seating themselves at the table, Seokjin settling between Jungkook and Yoongi, Jimin taking the vacant seat beside Taehyung. He smells of peaches and something subtly spicy, something that makes Taehyung want to drool all over himself like a crazed lunatic. He sneakily tries to scoot his chair a few inches from Jimin, not liking the way his pulse races at the intoxicating scent.

“Well, isn’t this nice?” he says, desperately needing a distraction. “Yoongi was just saying how remarkable it is that you both have eyes. Er, I-I mean, brown eyes—that is, um, eyes…”

He trails off with a pained laugh. Seokjin’s brow quirks. Yoongi is staring at Taehyung as though he’s spoken another language. Taehyung gulps, feeling frazzled, on edge. He can feel the weight of Jimin’s gaze, those dark, intimidating eyes that cause each of Taehyung’s brain cells to short-circuit simultaneously.

“Right…” Yoongi says. _Pull yourself together, dude_ , his gaze says, and Taehyung takes a steadying breath through his mouth, trying to avoid that mouth-watering scent of peaches and sin. “I think what my partner here means is that we’re very impressed by your performance.”

“Thank you,” Seokjin says, gently swirling his drink. He’s striking, flawless like a magazine cover, but unlike Jimin, his eyes aren’t wolf-like. “That means a lot, coming from such talented musicians.”

“I, for one, would like a little free advice,” Jimin interrupts, leaning forward and fluttering his lashes at Yoongi. “Do you have any suggestions for the act?”

Yoongi glances between the brothers, blinking rapidly. “No, no, just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Oh, surely there must be _something_ ,” Jimin insists. “Should we both be blondes? Maybe Seokjin’s hair should go a shade darker? Or should he change the style, you know, a little more off-the-face?”

Yoongi looks at Seokjin for a long moment. He licks his lips. “No,” he murmurs, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

A light flush creeps up Seokjin’s neck, and are Yoongi’s eyes… _sparkling?_

Taehyung jolts at a sudden touch on his thigh. He glances down; a delicate hand rests above his knee, complete with immaculately-manicured nails and a series of silver rings. Taehyung gulps. He looks up in time to see Jimin flash him a wink, his fingers squeezing Taehyung’s knee.

“Well, in that case, what would it take for us to get a song collaboration with, let’s say… the Cypher Duo?”

Yoongi smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Well, what do you know? Even sweet little Jimin’s got an angle.”

Seokjin’s eyes flash. “It was just a question, he didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Yoongi waves him off, “everybody’s got an angle.”

Seokjin frowns. “That’s a pretty cynical point of view.”

“Is it?” Yoongi shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. Hoseok, Jungkook, and Namjoon are watching the pair, eyes flicking back and forth like a tennis match. Jimin’s hand is steadily creeping up Taehyung’s thigh.

Seokjin’s eyes narrow. “Well, just for the record, I want you to know: my brother and I don’t play angles. We work hard, and we like to think our talent speaks for itself.”

“It most certainly does.” Yoongi clears his throat. “Look, all I’m saying is, when you’ve been around show business as long as I have, you get used to people working angles, that’s all.”

Their gazes lock for a long, unblinking moment, something tense shimmering in the air. Seokjin’s voice lowers. “I suppose I can’t fault you for that. I know what it’s like.”

Yoongi is now the one frowning. “I hope the industry hasn’t been too hard on you. It’s a cutthroat business, but the scars it leaves behind are often underserved.”

“That’s poetic,” Seokjin says, and his body has shifted, leaning closer to Yoongi. Taehyung feels distinctly intrusive, as though he’s suddenly trapped in a personal bubble he has no business in.

Yoongi licks his lips again, his hand nearly touching Seokjin’s on the table. “Well, being poetic is kind of my job.”

Seokjin laughs quietly, a soft, charming sound like clinking champagne glasses. “Of course; Min Yoongi, genius composer, masterful lyricist.”

“Your words, not mine,” Yoongi grins, pink gums showing. Seokjin leans closer, his voice a teasing murmur.

“If I flatter you enough, will you write a song for us?”

Yoongi blinks at him, mouth dropping open, and then he’s laughing, shoulders shaking as he falls back into his chair, Seokjin sporting a shit-eating grin.

“So much for not playing angles, you almost had me there,” Yoongi chuckles, finishing off his drink. Seokjin looks pleased.

“I did, didn’t I?”

The hand on Taehyung’s thigh is reaching dangerous territory. He’s vibrating like a high-strung violin string when he feels hot breath on his ear.

“Would you like to dance?” Jimin whispers. His voice is like a caress, making Taehyung shiver.

“D-dance?”

Jimin giggles, bubbly and sweet like butterflies. His hand squeezes Taehyung’s thigh. “Surely, a man like you knows how to dance?”

Taehyung’s brain feels slow, syrupy, full of molasses. “A man… like me?”

Jimin giggles again, and his hand blessedly releases Taehyung’s thigh only to grab his arm, tugging him up and towards the dancefloor, Taehyung powerless to resist. He glances back for help, but Yoongi is still making googly eyes at Seokjin and Namjoon is busy monopolizing Hoseok’s attention.

Taehyung gulps as dainty hands slide over his back, pulling him close in a classic waltz position. Jimin’s smile is dazzling.

“Would you like to lead, or shall I?”

Taehyung clears his throat and squares his shoulders. “I, um, I can lead.”

“Of course,” Jimin smirks, and Taehyung blushes when Jimin’s thumb brushes over his knuckles, at their chests pressed slightly too close together to be considered decorous.

Jimin smiles at him encouragingly, and then they’re dancing, slowly twirling to the gentle music played by the club’s jazz ensemble. Taehyung tries to focus on his feet, on not stumbling or stepping on toes, but Jimin is gazing up at him with hazelnut eyes framed by thick, fluttering lashes, the soft pink of his blouse highlighting the roses hidden in cream on his cheeks, the glossy pout of his lips. It’s entirely too distracting.

Those lips stretch into something coy, and Taehyung realizes he’s been caught staring. His feet stumble, but Jimin takes it in stride, stepping away into a graceful spin, and when he pulls their bodies close again, Taehyung realizes he is no longer leading this dance.

“Our brothers seem to be getting along,” Jimin says, nodding towards the table. Seokjin’s eyes are bright and amused as he speaks, Yoongi’s lips twitching with poorly-concealed grins, both of them utterly engrossed in the other.

“They are,” Taehyung says, surprised. Yoongi rarely gets along with anyone, these days.

“And what about you and me?” Jimin asks, voice like velvet.

Taehyung’s head whips back around. “Er, what?”

“Are _we_ getting along?” Jimin asks, expression innocent but voice darkly suggestive. Taehyung gulps, his skin feeling hot and itchy again, the softness of Jimin’s palm distracting.

“Oh, um, yes, I suppose we are.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jimin winks. He guides them into another spin, Taehyung’s head whirling, dizzy from more than just dancing. “You’re quite the dancer.”

Taehyung’s braincells are frazzled beyond repair. “You’re quite the dancer,” he breathes back. Jimin lets out one of those pealing giggles, eyes squinting cutely.

“That’s what I just said.”

“Oh. Right.” Taehyung chuckles, feeling awkward and overwhelmed, peaches and cream everywhere. “I guess I’m a little mixed up.”

“Maybe it’s the music,” Jimin offers graciously.

 _Maybe it’s more than just the music_ , Taehyung thinks. “So, uh, what’s Seokjin like?” he asks instead. Jimin’s smile gentles, the fire in his eyes melting into liquid gold.

“He’s strong, bold, driven, with a heart too big for this world.” His expression turns thoughtful, glaze flitting back to the table. “It’s nice to see someone match his wit,” he says, and Taehyung knows he means Yoongi. “It’s tiring, you know, being in showbusiness. All those fake smiles and dull conversations. I haven’t seen him genuinely laugh like that for quite a while.”

“I like his laugh,” Taehyung blurts. Jimin smiles again, tender around the edges.

“I do, too,” he says. “Now, tell me more about Yoongi.”

Taehyung bites his lip, letting Jimin guide him across the dancefloor, his body warm and sure beneath Taehyung’s hands.

“Yoongi is… hard to crack,” Taehyung says slowly. “He tends to close himself off to the world, preferring his work over most people. But I’ve never seen him so fascinated by someone, so quicky,” he adds. Jimin hums thoughtfully.

“Yes, well, Seokjin tends to have that effect on people.” He thinks for a moment, Taehyung valiantly attempting to keep his gaze from lingering on Jimin’s pursed lips. “We’ll need to keep an eye on them,” Jimin eventually declares. “Yoongi isn’t the only one who closes himself off.”

As the words sink in, Taehyung feels excitement flood through him at Jimin’s implication. Yoongi, on vacation, _relaxing_ … falling in love?

“It feels like fate, coming here, meeting you both,” Taehyung says. Jimin’s eyes twinkle as he pulls Taehyung close.

“You can’t leave everything up to fate,” he murmurs. “Sometimes, fate needs a little push.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

The next day, Yoongi descends the staircase to the lobby, Taehyung skipping along beside him.

“What should we do today?” he asks, eyes bright, his infectious energy making Yoongi feel weightless. “There’s still no snow, but maybe we could bake some cookies? I’ve always wanted to learn the secret behind the perfect gingerbread man—”

Taehyung stops short when they reach the bottom of the stairs and nearly run head-first into Jimin and Seokjin.

“Well, good morning,” Jimin smiles. Taehyung’s cheeks turn alarmingly red.

“O-oh, hello.”

“We were just about to help Hoseok decorate for the holidays, if you’d like to join us?” It’s phrased as a question, open-ended, but when Seokjin’s eyes glance towards him, Yoongi can’t imagine a universe in which he would refuse such an offer.

“Sounds fun, Tae, what do you say?”

“Yes, fun, absolutely,” he says, voice squeaking at the end as Jimin loops an arm through Taehyung’s and tugs him forward, leaving Yoongi and Seokjin at the bottom of the stairs.

“I think Jimin has taken a liking to your partner,” Seokjin smirks. Yoongi watches Taehyung leave, noticing the way Jimin clings to him, the way Taehyung bites his lip but clings back.

“Should I be worried? Tae’s got a sensitive heart.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think Jimin doesn’t?”

“You’ve got a rather unfortunate habit of twisting people’s words.”

Seokjin winks, extending an arm and looping it through Yoongi’s. “Only yours.”

When they reach the living room, Hoseok is bustling about excitedly, boxes of tinsel and ornaments and festive decorations piled on the couches and in Jungkook’s arms. Jimin and Taehyung have already been put to work assembling an elaborate ceramic display of the nativity scene, Taehyung nearly dropping the delicate pieces every time his hand brushes Jimin’s.

“Ah, Seokjin, I’m so glad you’re here!” Hoseok claps excitedly. “We need someone tall to get the ornaments on the tree! Perhaps Yoongi could give you a hand?”

“I’d be glad to,” Yoongi says. He’s operating on a full night’s sleep for the first time in months, no longer stressed about deadlines or haunted by unfinished melodies. He feels refreshed, an odd sensation. And with Seokjin’s arm in his, he feels warm, odd in a different way.

Yoongi takes a box of ornaments from Jungkook and follows Seokjin to the corner of the room. He’s struck, once again, by the length of Seokjin’s legs, the broad stretch of his shoulders beneath his knitted cream-colored sweater. He can reach all the way to the top of the tree when he stretches on his tip toes.

They fall into a system, Yoongi handing Seokjin ornaments, Seokjin strategically placing them on the tree. Every now and then their fingers brush, warmth tingling over Yoongi’s skin, his heart stuttering in his chest. Is this normal? Is this what happens when you get enough sleep; your heart has the energy to make up new rhythms?

“So, how’s vacation treating you so far?” Seokjin asks after a few minutes. “You seem like the kind of guy who struggles to stop working.”

“Dammit, did Taehyung tattle on me again?”

Seokjin laughs, a loud, vibrant sound that brings an effortless grin to Yoongi’s lips. “No, I’m just an excellent guesser,” Seokjin chuckles. “And I figured a big part of Cypher’s success is due to your work ethic.”

“You call it ‘work ethic,’ I call it ‘unhealthy obsession,’” Taehyung mutters, just loud enough to be heard.

“Nobody asked for your opinion,” Yoongi calls back. He hears Taehyung huff, Jimin giggle. Jungkook brings over another box of ornaments.

“I think your work ethic is really admirable,” he tells Yoongi, eyes big and genuine. Seokjin snorts.

“Just like you think Namjoon’s work ethic is really admirable?”

“Hey, do I sense someone taking a jab at my hardworking husband?” Hoseok calls from the fireplace, where he’s hanging a gaudy array of multicolored tinsel. “Only _I’m_ allowed to do that!”

“Children, all of you,” Jimin sighs, wrapping a tinsel garland around his neck like a scarf.

They eventually quiet down, Jungkook moving to help Hoseok with the tinsel, Jimin shamelessly flirting with Taehyung as they arrange ceramic wise men. Yoongi hands Seokjin another ornament. Seokjin’s profile is stunningly handsome, dark hair parted over his forehead, lush lips pursed in concentration, the column of his neck sculpted by the hands of angels. A melody suddenly drifts through Yoongi’s mind, sweet and lilting. His fingers ache for a piano, for a pen, for—

“Yoongi, hello? You there?”

Yoongi blinks up at Seokjin, handing him another ornament on autopilot. Seokjin is looking at him oddly.

“You feeling okay? Your face is flushed.”

“I’m great,” Yoongi breathes. He clears his throat. “Do you think being a workaholic is a bad thing?” he blurts.

Seokjin purses his lips, hanging the ornament exceptionally slowly. “If I did, I think I would be a hypocrite,” he eventually says with a wry smile. “If you love what you do, isn’t that the stuff of dreams?” He sighs. “But it’s all about balance. If you let your work consume you, it will. And it’s hard to come back from that.”

Yoongi twirls a sparkly silver ornament between his hands. “I think… I think I’ve always let work consume me because I’ve never had anything else,” he mutters. He looks up at Seokjin. “Maybe it’s time I change that.”

Seokjin stares back, expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Maybe it’s time you do.”

He takes the ornament from Yoongi’s hands, hooking it to the tree a bit haphazardly. Yoongi steps closer.

“I think that one would look best over here,” he says reaching around Seokjin, arm brushing his back as he hooks the bauble on a branch further up. “Isn’t that better?”

“Yes, that’s definitely—” Seokjin turns his head, and their noses nearly brush. “…better,” Seokjin breathes.

Yoongi’s arm is practically caging Seokjin to his chest; he can smell the faintest scent of cinnamon clinging to Seokjin’s sweater, feel the warmth of his skin, see the flecks of amber and burgundy mixed with the chocolate brown of Seokjin’s eyes.

Yoongi swallows. “Oh, that’s much better,” he says, voice low, head hazy. He knows he should move his arm, but he can’t bear to. And Seokjin isn’t moving away, either.

An hand suddenly darts above them, something green dangling from its fingers.

“Look what I found,” Jimin cheerfully sing-songs. “Mistletoe!”

Yoongi blinks. Seokjin blinks. Jimin rustles the mistletoe determinedly.

“Come on, now, you know the rules!” he prods. Taehyung sighs somewhere off in the distance, but Seokjin is still looking at Yoongi, and Yoongi is still looking at Seokjin, and Yoongi’s heart is stuttering out one of those uneven rhythms that he is utterly unequipped to handle.

Seokjin licks his lips, so pink and plump and inviting. Yoongi feels himself leaning in. Their noses brush, and he hesitates, lips a breath away from Seokjin’s, giving him a chance to refuse. And then their lips softly settle together.

He feels Seokjin’s mouth part as he lets out a quiet breath, warm, sweet, his lips plush and giving, tasting like snickerdoodles and cherry chapstick. Yoongi tightens his arm around Seokjin’s shoulders, that lilting melody rushing in his ears, making him giddy, making him reckless. But as he leans deeper into the kiss, Seokjin suddenly pulls away, eyes blown wide, ears tinged with scarlet.

There’s a long beat of silence. Then, a familiar giggle.

“Wow, that was hot,” Jimin says. Jungkook looks at him incredulously.

“That’s your _brother_.”

Jimin glares. “Are you saying my brother isn’t hot?”

“Well, no—”

“Are you saying he _is_ hot?” Namjoon asks. He’s standing in the doorway in a heavy coat and mittens, a weird emotion on his face. Jungkook blanches, eyes growing comically wide.

“N-no – I-I mean, well, um—”

“Oh, give the kid a break,” Yoongi says, “You’d have to be blind not to think Seokjin is hot.”

Jimin smirks in satisfaction as Seokjin splutters, crimson flooding from his ears to his neck. Jimin’s grin turns devilish.

“I think this means you should kiss him again.”

“Nope, no, absolutely not,” Seokjin says, finally stepping away, avoiding Yoongi’s gaze. “I don’t go around kissing strangers under the mistletoe.”

Taehyung pouts. “Do you really think of us as strangers?”

“Well, I don’t know much about you two, do I?” Seokjin counters. Yoongi bites his lip.

“I’d like to change that,” he says, quiet enough that only Seokjin can hear.

Seokjin meets his eyes for a long moment, searching. His lips are rosy, Yoongi’s chest aching at the sight. He wants more. He… he _likes_ Seokjin, really likes him.

But after a minute, Seokjin sighs, his eyes shuttering closed, unreadable. “Well, I’m here as a performer, not on vacation,” he says crisply. “I’ve got other things to worry about.”

And with that, he grabs a box of fake snow and strides to the other end of the room.

Yoongi frowns at the half-decorated tree left behind, trying to ignore the sting of rejection. Jimin places a hand on his shoulder, his smile kind.

“Don’t mind Seokjin,” he says. “He doesn’t mean to be rude. He’s just…”

“Lonely, miserable, and unhappy?” Yoongi asks dryly. Jimin grimaces in agreement, and Yoongi sighs. “He can join the club.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to the Friday movie night squad for encouraging me to write this! <3 
> 
> To the prompter: I hope you don’t mind that I took some liberties with the prompt!! My mind decided to take it in a whole different direction than I originally intended, but I hope you enjoyed 😊 
> 
> I'm aiming to have this finished by New Year's, so stay tuned!! :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'm sending you all lots of love and joy (and hopefully a white Christmas, wherever you are 🥰)
> 
>   
>  [moodboard :)](https://twitter.com/lucdream247/status/1342550741454475265?s=20)


	2. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seokjin and Yoongi go for a moonlit walk.
> 
> Jimin and Taehyung plot and scheme (and flirt). But things don't quite go as planned...

It’s been over a week since Yoongi arrived at the lodge, and as much as Seokjin tries, he can’t seem to avoid him.

He sees Yoongi in the kitchen during breakfasts, sleepy eyes over a steaming cup of tea. He sees him curled up on the sofa by the fire, glasses slipping down his nose, a book of poetry abandoned in his lap, lips pouty and expression relaxed as he sleeps. He’s often hanging out with Namjoon in the club before opening, or in the living room playing quiet, soothing songs on the piano, likely his own compositions.

And whenever their eyes meet, Yoongi smiles, soft and inviting, and Seokjin feels like an ass for turning him down. He craves nothing more than to give in, to allow himself to indulge in a feeling he hasn’t experienced for years. Something he never _allows_ himself to experience, because romance never ends well in showbusiness. The work always gets in the way.

And besides, Seokjin doesn’t have time to indulge in the flighty desires of his own heart. He’s focused on his music, on crafting unforgettable performances. And he’s focused on Jimin, the younger brother who has always been a tad reckless, fiery-tempered, too alluring for his own good. Keeping Jimin out of trouble is a full-time job, one that Seokjin takes very seriously. He has no time for romance.

But one week turns into two, and Seokjin’s resolve is wavering.

Yoongi comes to every Bangtan Brothers performance, night after night. Seokjin can feel his eyes in the crowd, the bright stage lights never truly able to conceal the intense gaze that follows him through every song. He finds himself looking forward to it, these moments where he can be Yoongi’s, where he can feel the weight of his dark gaze, imagine kissing the bourbon from his lips, imagine the feel of his hands on his waist and his breath on his neck. Yoongi makes Seokjin feel wanted and important, seen in a way that’s more than just another stranger in the crowd.

Yoongi makes Seokjin feel like he’s _more_.

But it distracts him. At night, he tosses and turns, Yoongi’s gaze lingering on his skin. He watches the stars wink at him through his window and wonders how much longer his resolve can last.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Seokjin sits up with a disgruntled huff. Moonlight streams through the curtains, clinging to Jimin’s pale hair in the adjacent bed. Seokjin’s blanket is a tangled mess around his legs. He feels jittery and restless; Yoongi’s attention had felt particularly intense at the night’s performance, and Seokjin can’t seem to shake it off. More than usual, he’d felt the urge to find Yoongi after the show, to hear his rumbly voice spew good-natured cynicism, to try out a new joke he thinks will make Yoongi laugh. To grab his fingers just to feel the pulse beneath his skin, to watch his eyes darken and lips part.

Seokjin sighs and rolls out of bed. He quickly slips his boots, coat, scarf, and hat on over his pajamas. He hopes a midnight stroll in the crisp mountain air will clear his head, along with a glass of warm milk and some of Hoseok’s freshly-baked sugar cookies. Perhaps, if he eats enough, a sugar coma will send him to sleep.

He creeps downstairs, boots quiet on the hardwood. As he reaches the lobby, a melody drifts from the dining room piano, quiet enough not to carry up the stairwell, but enough to draw Seokjin in, his feet carrying him towards the sound despite his weak protests.

He finds Yoongi seated at the piano, dark hair rumpled, his large hands drifting over the keys with mesmerizing grace. His eyes are closed, expression serene. He hasn’t seen Seokjin yet. Seokjin leans against the doorway, letting his own eyes slip shut, letting the sweetest of lullabies calm his racing mind.

After a while, the music stops. Seokjin opens his eyes to find Yoongi watching him.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Yoongi asks, running a hand through his hair. It sticks up haphazardly. Seokjin desperately wants to card his fingers through it, smooth it down.

“No, no, I was just going out for a walk. Can’t sleep,” Seokjin admits. He hesitates. “Would you… like to come with me?”

Yoongi blinks in surprise. “Oh. You sure?”

Seokjin sighs. He can’t sleep, anyway; might as well have some company. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Yoongi stands, grabbing a coat from atop the piano and shrugging it on over his flannel pajamas. Seokjin frowns. “Won’t you be cold?”

“My icy heart helps me acclimate to freezing temperatures,” Yoongi says wryly, and Seokjin shoves down a laugh, turning on his heel and leading them out the front door.

It’s a clear, chilly night, stars sparkling against a blanket of midnight. Seokjin wraps his scarf tighter, breath fogging in the air.

“Wow,” Yoongi murmurs. His face is tilted towards the sky. “You never see stars like this in the city.”

“I’m sure there’s a lot of things you can’t see in the city,” Seokjin says, starting off on the gravel path towards the valley, bright with moonlight. Yoongi follows with a chuckle.

“I suppose you’re right. But there’s a lot of things you can’t find out here in the mountains, too.”

“Like snow?” Seokjin jokes, kicking at the gravel. Yoongi hides a smile in his coat collar, but Seokjin still sees it, still feels his heart give a quiet lurch.

“Yeah, like snow. What’s up with that, huh? Half the reason I let Tae drag me on this cursed vacation was because he promised me snow.” Yoongi huffs dramatically. “What’s the point of being cold if there’s no snow?”

“Aren’t you always cold? You know, because of your icy heart.”

Yoongi chuckles, a breathy, raspy sound that makes Seokjin shiver. “Fair point.”

They walk in silence for a minute, just the sound of crunching gravel and the quiet hum of the forest. It’s comfortable. Comforting.

“Do you miss it?” Seokjin asks. “The city.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Yeah. But the city is all I’ve ever really known. And it’s not like I’ll be gone forever.” He looks up at the stars again, sparkling in his eyes. “But I think I’ve been missing out on some pretty incredible things, locked away in my studio. I haven’t had this much room to breathe since… well, ever.”

“That melody you were playing,” Seokjin asks, “what’s it from?”

Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, breath clouding the air when he chuckles a bit sheepishly. “Just something that’s been floating around in my head, lately. This vacation has given me a lot of time for daydreaming.”

“Oh? Something got you inspired?”

Yoongi glances at him, then away just as quickly. His cheeks are ruddy from the cold.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Yoongi murmurs.

The silence stretches longer this time. The air feels heavier, tense, like it’s waiting for something, and Seokjin’s getting that fidgety feeling under his skin again. Yoongi clears his throat.

“Hey, um, I’ve been meaning to apologize. For what happened the other day.”

Seokjin cocks his head. “Apologize?”

Yoongi is staring down at their feet as they walk. “Yeah. For the whole mistletoe thing. I didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable. I don’t want you to feel like you need to avoid me, or anything.”

Seokjin bites his lip. “What makes you think I’ve been avoiding you?”

Yoongi side-eyes him. “Haven’t you been?”

Seokjin feels raw and exposed, impossible to hide in the moonlight. He looks away. Yoongi sighs.

“Yeah, I thought so.” His hand is suddenly in Seokjin’s, tugging them to a halt on the path. His fingers feel cold, even through Seokjin’s gloves. “I hope I haven’t ruined my chances at being your friend,” Yoongi says, quiet but earnest. Seokjin squeezes his fingers.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he says. “And I think _I’m_ the one who should be apologizing. You did nothing wrong. I just…” _Wasn’t prepared to feel so much._

Yoongi smiles up at him, crooked and sweet. “I get it. So… friends?” 

“Friends,” Seokjin says, repositioning their hands into an awkward handshake, Yoongi’s low chuckle seeping into his bones, warm like hot chocolate. There are poinsettias on Yoongi’s cheeks, and Seokjin aches to touch, to know if Yoongi’s skin is as soft as petals, too.

Slowly, his gaze lowers, dragging down to Yoongi’s lips. They’re slightly parted, faintly pink, and Seokjin remembers how gentle they felt against his own, soft but insistent. Seokjin suddenly wishes for mistletoe, for an excuse to kiss those lips again.

Yoongi’s cheeks are dark, his eyes intense. A shiver wracks through him. Seokjin clears his throat, taking a step back.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” he mutters, unwrapping his scarf and draping it around Yoongi’s neck, arranging it as he carefully avoids Yoongi’s gaze. His fingers graze Yoongi’s neck, and Yoongi shivers again.

“Not possible,” Yoongi whispers. “Icy heart, remember?”

Seokjin smooths down the scarf, letting his hands linger before dropping away. “I don’t believe that,” he says, moonlight trapped in his chest. “You’re not nearly as icy as you’d like the world to think.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Taehyung is just about to take a bite of his sandwich when Jimin swirls into the room and pulls the plate from his hands. Taehyung blinks up at him, stomach growling. The mid-afternoon light catches in Jimin’s hair, reminding Taehyung of the angels of renaissance paintings.

“I need to talk to you,” Jimin hisses, sitting down on the loveseat unnecessarily close, thigh nearly touching Taehyung’s.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Taehyung says. He eyes his sandwich longingly. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Jimin says, delicate eyebrows pursed in thought, “but something’s up with Seokjin. The other night he couldn’t sleep, today he won’t eat… I think he’s falling in _love_.”

Taehyung frowns. “In love? Wait, with Yoongi?”

“Yes, Tae, keep up,” Jimin says impatiently, and oh, Taehyung’s body is suddenly flushed, uncomfortably warm. He likes it when Jimin gets bossy (though he’d never willingly admit it). “It’s love, alright. But he’s deliberately putting up barriers, I’d bet my bottom dollar on it.”

“Why?”

“Because of me,” Jimin sighs. “He’s always felt like a mother hen, and I’m his little chick; he’ll never leave the roost until I’m taken care of.”

Jimin bites his lip, glancing away, and for the first time Taehyung sees a glimpse of a Jimin who isn’t disarmingly charming and burning with sensual confidence. He sees a boyish vulnerability in the set of Jimin’s mouth, slight anxiety in the way his hands twist in his lap. Taehyung fights down an urge to gather Jimin’s hands in his own, cradle them close and kiss away their trembling. His stomach grumbles again; his hunger must be making him delusional.

“It was always just me and Seokjin growing up,” Jimin says quietly. “Our parents were never around, always too busy to properly take care of us. Seokjin stepped in. He was always there for me, not only as my big brother, but as a parent figure. He never thought of himself, always sacrificing his own needs for my happiness, and though we’re both adults now, he doesn’t seem to realize that I’m not a little chick anymore. He doesn’t need to keep me under his wing.” Jimin sighs again. “But old habits die hard. He’ll never put his own happiness first until he knows I’m taken care of. Until I’m married, or engaged, or something.”

Taehyung sighs. “Well, that’s the end of that, I guess.”

Jimin suddenly straightens, eyes flashing as he slowly smiles. “Unless… I got myself engaged.”

Taehyung scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. We’re up in the wilderness, there’s nobody around here for you to get engaged _to_.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jimin says, smile turning coy. Taehyung shakes his head.

“Be realistic, Jimin. Who could you find up here, and on such short notice?”

Jimin taps a thoughtful finger against his lips, pouting slightly. “Well, I suppose it should be somebody I know…”

“That always helps.”

“And of course, it’s gotta be a man.”

Taehyung nods sagely. “That’s an absolute must.”

“A mature man,” Jimin continues, voice velvety, “someone with talent and experience.”

“Yeah, someone witty, gay, charming, attractive, the works.” Taehyung’s brow raises. “But where will you find such a superman?”

Jimin’s hand suddenly trails up Taehyung’s arm, leaving goosebumps even through the fabric of his sweater. His face is close; Taehyung can see each of Jimin’s dark eyelashes as they flutter at him. “Don’t be so modest, Tae.”

Taehyung shakes his head, distracted by the butterflies filling his empty stomach. “Seriously Jimin, guys like that don’t just—oh.” His eyes widen. “ _Me?_ ”

Jimin’s grin is downright sinful. Taehyung gulps, subtly trying to inch away. Jimin follows him, body scooting closer, hand still on his arm. “Well, you’re not exactly superman, but you’re awfully available, wouldn’t you say?”

“Now, don’t go getting any ideas,” Taehyung says, a desperate waver in his voice. “I’m not the marrying kind.”

“Oh, come on, it’s just an engagement,” Jimin purrs, still moving closer. Taehyung feels his back hit the armrest, nowhere to run.

“Well, I’m not the engaging kind, either!”

“Well, what kind are you?” Jimin asks, cocking his head, looking at Taehyung from beneath his lashes. He’s practically in Taehyung’s lap, and Taehyung thinks this whole situation is utterly unfair; he’s starving, and flustered, and Jimin has no right to be looking at him like that while Taehyung is in such a vulnerable and confused state.

Taehyung gulps. “I’m more of the ‘I don’t mind pushing my best friend into it, but I’m scared stiff when I get anywhere near it myself’ kind. The ‘take it slow’ kind.”

Jimin clucks his tongue, trailing a finger down Taehyung’s jaw, voice like honey. “Oh, how terrible could it be for just a few days, hm? You do like me, don’t you?”

“S-sure, I do.”

Jimin smiles, finger playing with the collar of Taehyung’s sweater. “I mean, I’m not exactly repulsive.”

Taehyung swallows thickly, head swimming. “Of c-course not.”

“And you do find me charming, amusing, good company, fun to be with?”

“I do, but, uh, I also feel that way about my childhood goldfish.”

Jimin leans away from him, and Taehyung suddenly misses the warmth, his skin tingling in the wake of Jimin’s touch. “Oh well, then, let’s just forget it.” Jimin sighs dramatically. “I was only thinking of Seokjin and Yoongi…”

Taehyung bites his lip. “Seokjin and Yoongi…” he muses, recalling the way Yoongi’s eyes glow when he looks at Seokjin, how he’s seen Yoongi smile more in the past couple weeks than in the past couple months, how his cheeks splotch with color whenever Seokjin so much as enters a room.

He glances back at Jimin, who’s pouting entirely too innocently.

“It… it would only be temporary?”

“Well, of course!” Jimin says. His pout intensifies. “You don’t think I’m the kind of guy who just goes around throwing myself at men, do you?”

“Of course not, why would I think that?” Taehyung mutters dryly. He deliberates for another moment, thoughts clearer now that Jimin’s hands aren’t tangled in his sweater. “Alright, it would only last two or three weeks at the worst—er, the _most_ , I mean.”

“Yes, of course,” Jimin says with an angelic smile, leaning closer again, his hand back on Taehyung’s arm.

Taehyung clears his throat. “And, uh, we wouldn’t have to announce our ‘engagement’ until it was absolutely necessary?”

“Absolutely necessary,” Jimin confirms, his voice a low purr.

Taehyung shivers, hands tightening on Jimin’s waist. When had he put his hands there? He can’t recall. “Okay, it’s a deal.”

Jimin beams, extending a hand for Taehyung to shake, his palm smooth and soft and tiny. His touch lingers as he eyes Taehyung with a contemplative smirk.

He leans impossibly closer, voice wickedly innocent. “Well, don’t you think we should kiss, or something? To seal the deal?”

His sweet breath fans over Taehyung’s face, their noses nearly brushing, his pouty lips just a hairsbreadth away. Taehyung jolts when he feels a warm hand sliding up his thigh, and in an act of desperation he lurches to grab his sandwich from the table, brandishing it between him and Jimin like a shield.

He gulps, sliding down the couch cushions as he leans away. “Uh… not until it’s absolutely necessary.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Seokjin sits on the couch, a flute of champagne in hand, the room filled with dancing and laughter and companionable chatter. It’s a few days until Christmas, and Hoseok insisted on hosting a _pre_ -Christmas party.

“You can never have too much holiday spirit!” he’d said, Jungkook nodding enthusiastically, Namjoon sighing as he helped mix yet another batch of Christmas cookies.

Seokjin knows he looks good. His deep-cut black blouse draws the eye to his slim waist tucked into fitted trousers, the string of pearls around his throat accentuating the line of his clavicle. His legs are crossed just right, his champagne glass held with careful aloofness, and when he brings it to his perfectly-red lips, eyes follow him, the gazes of men who had come from the city to relax, to escape, to indulge.

Any other night, Seokjin may have given a lucky fellow a chance. But tonight, their gazes aggravate him, their idle chatter like nails on a chalkboard. And despite his efforts, his eyes keep drifting to Yoongi.

He’s dressed up in a blazer and slacks, but his hair is carelessly disheveled as usual. Even from across the room, Seokjin is drawn to the intensity of his gaze, the rare sweetness of his smile like sunlight breaking through clouds. Yoongi isn’t dancing with anyone, either, and Seokjin wants to bridge the distance between them and scoop Yoongi into his arms, sweep him off his feet.

But that wouldn’t be practical, Seokjin knows. Mixing business and pleasure never ends well, and he’s not willing to risk his heart or his career for a man who could leave him behind in a broken heap. And so, he sips his champagne broodingly, wondering how soon he can slip away up to his room without Hoseok noticing.

His gaze lands on Taehyung and Jimin on the dancefloor. Jimin is ethereal in a fitted white ensemble and sparkling elbow-length gloves, his form a graceful silhouette next to Taehyung’s tall stature and dashing profile. Even from his seat on the couch, Seokjin can see the way Jimin’s eyes sparkle when he looks at Taehyung, and something in Seokjin’s gut tightens. Jimin usually looks at men in a calculating way, assessing how much charm is required to get them to fall hard and deep for his captivating persona. But Taehyung…

Jimin looks at Taehyung as if he’s hung every star in the sky.

Taehyung whispers something in Jimin’s ear, and then he’s walking towards Seokjin with a square grin, hand outstretched.

“Would you care to dance?”

Seokjin quirks an eyebrow. “What about Jimin?”

“I can only take Jimin in small doses. To protect my health,” Taehyung says with a wink. Seokjin smirks, downs the rest of his champagne, and lets Taehyung sweep him onto the dancefloor.

He’s surprisingly good company; he keeps Seokjin on his toes, and he’s charming in a delightfully awkward way. Seokjin can see why Jimin likes him.

“So,” Seokjin eventually probes, “what’s going on between you and my brother?”

Taehyung’s cheeks turn red alarmingly fast. “W-what do you mean?”

“Oh, come now, I’m not blind.” The music changes into something slower, and their dancing shifts with it. “And I approve. I think you’re good for him.”

“O-oh,” Taehyung murmurs. He bites his lip, looking pleased. “Thank you.”

He spins Seokjin in a twirl, and then his hand lets go and Seokjin finds himself in a new pair of arms, familiar eyes blinking up at him.

“Hello,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin glances back at Taehyung and finds that Jimin has magically reappeared, holding Taehyung close. He winks when he catches Seokjin’s gaze. Seokjin immediately knows his brother is up to no good.

When he turns back around, Yoongi is staring at him, cheeks faintly flushed from dancing. His shoulders are so broad beneath his suit, his hands sturdy and strong on Seokjin’s waist, and Seokjin lets him take the lead, too focused on valiantly staring at the wall behind them.

“You’re avoiding me again,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin glances down at him, then away.

“No, I’m not.”

Yoongi snorts. “Yes, you totally are. C’mon, I thought we were friends now.”

Seokjin bites his lip, letting Yoongi guide him over the dancefloor. A _friend_ shouldn’t make him feel like this, as though his heart is trying to pound its way out of his chest. Shouldn’t make sparks tingle where their hands meet, shouldn’t occupy his every waking thought and command his dreams.

Yoongi pulls him closer, their chests a breath apart. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” Seokjin breathes. Yoongi’s eyes widen, and he swallows, eyes flicking down to Seokjin’s mouth imperceptibly fast.

“Oh? What about me?”

Seokjin’s skin feels hot, like he’s burning up from the inside out. “I…”

Yoongi’s hands tighten on his waist, his gaze expectant, and it’s suddenly too much.

“I need another drink,” Seokjin says, slipping out of Yoongi’s arms before his hammering pulse gives him away. He heads to the bar, feeling Yoongi’s gaze follow him, cursing his heart for falling without his consent.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Jimin frowns. Seokjin is walking away, Yoongi’s eyes flashing with hurt and disappointment, and Jimin can watch this nonsense ensue no longer.

“Looks like it’s absolutely necessary,” he whispers to Taehyung.

Taehyung glances behind him, deflating when he sees the remnants of their failed attempt at matchmaking. He sighs.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

He takes Jimin’s hand, guiding him to the front of the room, gesturing for the band to cease playing. It’s suddenly quiet, the chatter of partygoers fading to a confused murmur as they look to the stage. Taehyung clears his throat.

“Everyone, I have an announcement!” He swallows nervously, and Jimin squeezes his hand in encouragement. “I want you all to be the first to know that Jimin has agreed to, uh… I mean, er, he just asked me… That is, he just said—what I’m trying to say is that Jimin and I are engaged!”

The crowd breaks out into applause, and Jimin lets his adoration for this lovely, bumbling man flood his senses, not bothering to hide his enamored smile as Taehyung hesitantly wraps an arm around him. For all intents and purposes, they’re engaged and in love, and if Jimin suddenly wants it to be real, well, who can blame him?

And when Taehyung meets his gaze with his earnest brown eyes, Jimin dares to dream that Taehyung might want this to be real, too.

“Congratulations!” a voice shrieks, and then Hoseok is pulling them into a crushing hug, showering kisses atop their heads. Seokjin is behind him, face strangely ashen but smile wide.

“Oh, Chim, I’m so happy for you,” he says, pulling him into a hug. Jimin snuggles close; Seokjin’s arms have always felt like home.

“Well, I hoped you would be,” Jimin giggles. He pulls back, but Seokjin’s smile suddenly seems off. “Is everything alright?”

The smile is back, but Jimin can tell it’s forced. “Oh, yes, everything’s fine,” Seokjin says breezily. He moves on to hug Taehyung, squeezing him tight.

“You realize you’re marrying the best man in the whole wide world, right?” Jimin hears him say.

Taehyung clears his throat, meeting Jimin’s gaze. “Y-yeah, I do.”

“Good,” Seokjin says. “Take care of him, okay?”

And then he disappears into the crowd, leaving Jimin feeling bewildered, something hollow in the pit of his stomach. He shares a confused glance with Taehyung. Suddenly, Jimin isn’t so sure this fake engagement was the right move.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Taehyung frowns at Seokjin’s back, disconcerted by Jimin’s worried expression. He opens his mouth to call after Seokjin, but a hand clamps down on his shoulder, Namjoon beaming at him.

“Well, don’t just stand there! Aren’t you going to kiss him?”

Taehyung gapes. “Kiss…?” Jimin looks at him expectantly. “Oh, er, yes of course.”

He leans down and chastely presses his lips to Jimin’s. He pulls back after exactly one second, planning to leave it at that. But Jimin’s lips taste like strawberries and champagne, and Taehyung suddenly craves more.

“Yes, of _course_ ,” he says with more conviction, diving back in, head spinning as Jimin’s plump lips yield under his own. A delicate hand reaches up, cupping the back of his neck, slender fingers tangling in his hair, and Taehyung feels electric where their bodies touch. He can feel every curve beneath the sheath of Jimin’s fitted suit, and suddenly, he desperately wants to memorize every part of Jimin, taste every nuance of flavor and worship every inch of skin.

Namjoon clears his throat awkwardly.

Taehyung pulls back, cheeks flushed. Jimin’s smile is dazzling.

“See, that didn’t hurt too much, did it?”

Taehyung chuckles, lips tingling. “You know, in some ways, you’re far superior to my pet goldfish,” he quips, tugging Jimin back onto the dancefloor.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Yoongi watches Seokjin slip into the crowd and without a second thought, he’s following, jostling through the throng until he reaches the edge and sees Seokjin disappearing into the kitchen.

Yoongi takes a deep breath, oddly nervous, and steps inside.

Seokjin is standing against the far counter, his back to the door. Yoongi clears his throat to announce his presence, but Seokjin doesn’t turn.

“Our brothers, getting married,” Yoongi chuckles. “Who would have thought?”

Seokjin doesn’t respond, and Yoongi’s chuckle trails off. He clears his throat again.

“I mean, Tae isn’t technically my brother, I guess, but he’s the closest thing I’ve got to family...”

Seokjin still says nothing. He’s staring intently at a cabinet, gaze faraway, white-knuckled fingers clutching the counter.

Yoongi steps forward, hesitantly placing a hand on Seokjin’s arm. “Hey, you okay?”

Seokjin looks down at his hand, then at him. “It’s always just been me and Jimin,” he says, something hollow and vulnerable in his voice. “He’s all I have. I never thought…” He sniffles discreetly, closing his eyes. “I’m happy for him, of course. What kind of brother would I be if I wasn’t?” He lets out a shuddery breath. “I just wasn’t expecting this so _soon_. I thought… I thought we’d have more time.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Yoongi soothes his thumb over Seokjin’s arm, aching to pull him close, hold him tight. “Jimin’s not going anywhere. He’s still your brother, he still loves you more than anything; a little engagement’s not gonna change that. Besides, when Tae and I get back to the city, I’ll keep him so busy he won’t even have time to _think_ about getting married for at least a year, how’s that sound?”

Seokjin chuckles, a flat, watery sound. Yoongi doesn’t like it.

“Back to the city, huh? How could I forget.” Seokjin blows out a harsh breath. “We’re from such different worlds. How do they expect this to work?”

“Our worlds aren’t so different. The city isn’t that far—”

“It’s far enough,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi suddenly isn’t sure they’re talking about Taehyung and Jimin anymore. “I hate the city; it’s dank and crowded a-and full of people who always _want_ something from you. I don’t want Jimin to move there. _I_ don’t want to move there, not for anything or anyone.” Seokjin sniffles again, and his voice is raising, body tensing, eyes flashing. “Things were just fine the way they were, until you and your brother waltzed in here and changed _everything_.”

Yoongi pulls his hand back, confused. “Seokjin, if I did something to upset you, I’m sorry—”

“Oh, just _stop it_ ,” Seokjin snaps. His eyes are watery, and Yoongi’s heart lurches even as he bristles at Seokjin’s tone. “Stop being nice, and thoughtful, a-and—and invest in a hairbrush, for god’s sake!” he says before yanking his arm back and fleeing from the room.

Yoongi stares after him, bringing a hand to his head. A hairbrush? He’s always thought the disheveled rockstar look worked for him.

He leans against the counter, the muted sounds from the party trapping him in a distant bubble. He feels heavy. Once again, he’s somehow said the wrong thing, pushed Seokjin away. Out on the dance floor, bodies pressed close, Yoongi had felt that flutter in his chest again when Seokjin had looked at him, and for the briefest moment, Yoongi had seen a longing in Seokjin’s eyes that matched his own. Something soft; something just for him.

But then Seokjin had walked away, as he’d just done, and as he’s done so many times. And like always, Yoongi is left reeling, with a stuttering heart he has no idea what to do with.

No matter how hard he tries, Yoongi’s not sure he’ll ever understand the mind – or heart – of Kim Seokjin.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Seokjin finally understands the idiom of having a rug pulled out from under you.

He feels blindsided. Betrayed. Where his footing had once been stable, he now finds himself flailing, his stomach dropping like the pull of gravity on a rollercoaster. But instead of a thrill, he feels pulsing nausea. His eyes sting; he’s been trying not to cry, but he hadn’t seen this coming, not in a million years.

Because Jimin has always told him everything. Since they were kids, they were each other’s sole confidants, joined at the hip, utterly inseparable. That’s something that had never changed over the years, never _would_ change.

Or so Seokjin had thought.

When had Jimin stopped telling him things? Confiding in him? Sharing the secrets of his heart in quivering whispers in the dead of night? Seokjin was always the first to hear about Jimin’s new love interests and flings, always the one Jimin came to for advice. But now…

Now, Seokjin is lying in bed, facing the wall. Feeling raw and exposed and utterly lost, adrift. He feels guilty, not just for snapping at Yoongi, but for being undeniably _unhappy_ at his own brother’s happiness. His heart throbs, feeling swollen and too big for his chest, physically painful.

He hears Jimin emerge from the en-suite bathroom and slip into the other bed. There’s a moment of silence before Jimin speaks, soft and tentative.

“I know we said we’d never break up the act, but that wasn’t very realistic, was it? I mean, we both knew that someday one of us – or _both_ of us – would want something more.”

Seokjin feels like he’s falling, everything he once knew and held dear suddenly stripped away, nothing to cling to but the bedsheets clenched in his fists.

“Besides,” Jimin continues, “now that I’m taken care of, you don’t have to feel responsible for me anymore. You’ve always put me first, and I love you for it. But you’re free now. I mean, if there’s anything… _special_ you want to pursue, you can feel free to go ahead and do it. Right?”

Seokjin wonders if he’s choking, if his heart has been wrenched from his chest and lodged itself in his throat. He realizes he’s crying; his pillow is wet and salty. He keeps his breathing steady, even as he squeezes his eyes shut and chokes in silence, thankful that Jimin cannot see his face.

“Jin?” Jimin whispers. “Are you asleep?”

Seokjin doesn’t respond. After a moment, Jimin sighs, making a disappointed sound.

“Well, goodnight. I love you.”

Seokjin doesn’t sleep a wink that night. And for once, it has nothing to do with Yoongi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever stop using Seokjin as a vessel for self-projection? No, probably not :'))
> 
> In scenes referenced from the movie, I kept a lot of the original phrasing/language they used as a fun little dose of nostalgia and self-indulgent linguistic humor. (Plus this movie has a top-notch script, I couldn't resist!)
> 
> One chapter left! :) how are we feeling??


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